Sunset in Silvana (Da'ark Nocturne Book 1) (2 page)

Boris sprang gallantly to her defence.  “Leave her alone, Ivan.  Remember, she lost more than you at Pregeor.  You weren’t married.”

“It’d take someone special to catch
me
,” Ivan boasted.  “Until that happens, I’ll play the field.  There are untold benefits to being a Hero of the Republic.”  He gave a sly smirk, and Talia was about to retort when the intercom buzzed.  Her lift had arrived.

The limousine drew up outside the best restaurant in Restavic City, and she was escorted to the usual booth, where Major Valentine was waiting.  He smiled, got to his feet, and took her hand.

“Comrade Talia, thank you for joining me.”

“My pleasure, Comrade Major.  I always enjoy your company – and the food here is exquisite.”

“Please, sit – I’ve taken the liberty of ordering you an aperitif.”

“Thank you.”

Only inconsequential matters could be discussed while the waiters fussed around them, but once their main course was delivered, the Major broached more serious concerns.

“How is your memory?” he asked.  “Is it becoming any easier to recollect your past?”

Talia shook her head sadly.  “Not really – someone asked about it on the bus today, and… well, let’s just say I still don’t want to try.”

“I’m sorry.”  He seemed frustrated at her lack of progress, but also, for an instant, she felt he was oddly relieved.  “What about your comrades?  Have they remembered anything?”

“I think Boris is a little nervous about what he’d find if he dug too deeply.  Ivan couldn’t care less – he’s too busy revelling in being a Hero – and you know what happened to Anoushka.  It’s only the amnesia that’s keeping her sane at the moment.”  He nodded understandingly.  “I haven’t seen much of Johan recently.  With the current international tension, he tends to spend more time at the Skyport than in his apartment, and our shifts don’t often coincide anyway.  As for Goran, you know how he and I don’t really get along.  He spends most of his time at the
Comet
, and keeps young Josef with him.  He treats the poor boy as a kitchen slave — it’s easy to see how much Josef resents it.  Still, it’s not my place to criticise.”

“It’s important for the young to do their duty.”

Talia grimaced.  “I know, but it seems a bit harsh on an orphan who went through such hell to make him the ward of such a man.”

“That man led the resistance at Pregeor.”

“That’s true, but that doesn’t necessarily make him a good father-figure.  Anyway, enough about him – is there any news of Anoushka?”

“She’s doing well, and should be back with you in a few days.”

“Oh, that’s good.”  Talia smiled, but shook her head in exasperation.  “I blame myself.”

“For what?”

“Her breakdown.”

“Surely not.”

Talia sighed.  “If only I’d been quicker…  I know all about her sensitivity, and everyone on the permanent staff knows not to involve her with burn victims, but that paramedic wasn’t one of the regulars.  It’s true it was an emergency, but there was no call for him to manhandle her like that.  When he forced her to look at that poor girl’s flash-burnt face and she collapsed, I just had to go to her.  I deserve a reprimand: I should have left her where she was and helped with the emergency.”

“It was an understandable reaction.”

“Yes, but not very professional.  Nobody said anything, but I could feel their disapproval.”

“You’re imagining things.  From what I’ve been told, you couldn’t have done anything more than your comrades did to save the burns victim, and nobody I’ve talked to has any complaints about your behaviour.”

“But it is the duty of a Hero of the Republic to act in an exemplary fashion at all times.”

“Psh!  Don’t put too much of a burden on yourself – or your comrades.  You’re human, all of you, and your very humanity shows the rest of our citizens that they, too, can aspire to be Heroes.  Anyway, what about Comrade Ulanova?  Fainting like that was hardly exemplary.”

Talia bridled.  “That’s different.”

Major Valentine looked her in the eyes.  “No, it’s not.  I’ve noticed the pressure of duty you put yourself under, and if you don’t cut yourself some slack, it could be you in the psychiatric ward – and not because of Pregeor either.  Heroes of the Republic should not have nervous breakdowns, so from now on, please regard it as your duty to relax as much as possible.”

Talia’s shoulders sagged.  “If you put it that way…”

“I do – and I’ll do my best to enforce
that
duty,” he said with mock severity, but after a second or two, his face softened.  “And on the subject of relaxation, have you any plans for the weekend?”

“Well…”

“Well what?” 

“We were hoping that, since it is the weekend of the President’s Birthday, and we have four days off instead of three, we could go to that dacha up the coast that you sometimes let us use.  It’s so beautifully peaceful, and the weather’s not yet too cold for swimming.”

“I thought you might ask for that, so I’ve already ordered it prepared.”

“That’s marvellous.  You take such good care of us.”

“Nonsense.  I’m simply doing my duty.”

Talia wondered whether she was imagining things, but she felt the look in his eyes belied his words.  “I wish there was some way I – we – could thank you.”

“There is.”

“Oh?  And what is your wish, O master?”  Talia bowed her head in mock obeisance.

He laughed.  “
My
masters would be grateful if you would visit a couple of our schools the day before the holiday – and perhaps you could persuade Boris and Ivan to do the same?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem – the lure of a long weekend at the dacha will easily entice them, and things are pretty slow at the Skyport at the moment.”

“That may well change.”

“Really?”  She gave him a speculative look, but he seemed unwilling to divulge anything more, so, after a short pause, she continued.  “Anyway, they won’t mind – and you know I’m always ready to spend time inspiring future Heroes.  You’ll have to provide cover for me at the Medical Centre, though.”

“Everything’s already arranged.”

“You know, you seem to almost know what I want before I do.”

“As I said, it’s part of my job.  There’ll be a helicopter waiting for you at six that evening.  Take some clothes for Comrade Anoushka.”

Talia’s heart leapt.  “Of course.”

As they were finishing their coffees, the Major said, “Comrade Talia, I don’t want you to be alarmed, but because of the increased international tension, you may notice a little more security around than you’ve been used to.”

“Are we in danger?”  She bit her lip and he laid his hand reassuringly on her bare arm.

Despite her nervousness, a shiver of pleasure ran through her, and she almost missed what he said next.  “You’re in no more danger than any other public figure, Comrade, it’s only a precaution.  Unfortunately, the Telphanians and their allies, the Silvanan Free Army, have been becoming more active recently.”

“I wish I understood why the Telphanians hate us so much,” she said.  “It’s probably the result of the trauma of Pregeor, but I can’t remember anything about how we got into this situation.  Peace between neighbours – especially neighbouring countries – is what we need.  We don’t want another incident like that.”

“No indeed, but that’s not just up to us.  Since Silvana chose to secede from Telphania and join our Republic, the Telphanians have used all the means at their disposal to destabilise our government in the hope of recovering their lost province.  Pregeor is only the worst of it – they sponsor the SFA, and their agents infiltrate everywhere.  We must be on our guard at all times.”

“Surely they wouldn’t actually invade Silvana?  They wouldn’t stand a chance with their soft, undisciplined troops against our elite forces.”

“They have help – mercenaries and advanced weapons provided by their off-world allies.  But we have friends too – the Dainworlds Federation have proved staunch comrades-in-arms.”

“But what do these off-worlders hope to gain in return for their aid?  Our small planet seems pretty unimportant in the cosmic scale.”

“This planet was once vital to older galactic powers.  You probably don’t remember much of our history, but most of Ruine was ravaged some thousands of years ago by the Forerunners and the Ancients.”

“Forerunners?  Ancients?”

“The light and dark forces of legend.  They fought over this planet, and in its skies, which is why so much of the surface is barren and dead, and why we’re surrounded by a ring of debris where there used to be several moons.  From what I’ve been told, having devastated much of the galaxy, both races simply disappeared.  Nobody today knows much about them, but they did leave several strange constructs on Ruine, on the only continent left relatively untouched – our own.  From what I can tell, the major galactic forces of today are curious about these artefacts, and want to access them – which is why they’re so interested in us.”

“But where are these ’artefacts’?  I can’t remember hearing about them before now.”

“That’s because they’re mostly in Telphania – apart from the strange spiral of monoliths in Duplif-al-Starel.  Now, I mustn’t take up any more of your valuable time.  Thank you for your company, which has been as delightful as always.”

“The pleasure is all mine.  I do so look forward to these occasions.”

He took her hand and led her back to the limousine for the return trip, which passed in a happy reverie.  The threat of Telphania seemed unreal, and anyway, she had Major Valentine to protect her.  She changed into her sleepwear and lay down on her bed thinking happily how good life was.

Boris Dechorsky woke the next morning bleary-eyed and depressed.  His head told him that he should be grateful for his privileged life as a Hero of the Republic, but his heart told him otherwise – somehow, almost everything about his life felt empty and hollow.  He yawned, stretched and tumbled reluctantly out of bed.  He stood under the shower, hoping that the cold water would wake him up and lighten his mood.  It managed the former, but signally failed at the latter.  He sighed and began to dress.

He dragged himself to the washbasin and began to shave.  He sometimes felt that he’d look better with a beard, but Senior Mechanics at the Restavic Down Skyport did not wear facial hair.  Anyway, even if he had wanted to stop shaving, the official policy for all the Heroes of Pregeor was that they should look as similar as possible to their clean-cut images on the patriotic posters, as reproduced on the new set of stamps celebrating their actions during the disaster.  The special framed cover on the wall looked down on him with an air of superiority; how could anyone hope to live up to those heroic archetypes?

A noise from outside the window caught his attention, and he looked out to see a van from one of the local co-operatives draw up outside the block.  The concierge, Olga, came out to speak to the driver.  They haggled for a few moments, and Boris could see that he was a rather surly lout.  Boris judged from his manner that he wouldn’t help Olga with her purchases, but would leave her to struggle with them on her own.  He turned from the window and ran to the hallway and down the stairs, pulling on his coat as he did so.  He emerged into the cool air just as the van drove away leaving the old lady to cope with the boxes and a large, heavy-looking sack.

“Let me help you, Mother Olga,” he said as she strained to lift the sack.  “After all, you bought some of this for me and my comrades.”

She glanced up, surprised, but when she realised who it was, she gave him a broad smile.  “Thank you, Comrade Boris,” she said with a sigh.  “You’re up early.  I was wondering how I’d manage to carry it all in.  I’ve purchased a good selection of vegetables,
and
I managed to persuade the driver to sell me a small crate of freshly-caught flickerals.’  She gestured at the uppermost box, which was full of the slender finger-length fish.

Boris lifted this and the carton of bread beneath it and put them into Olga’s arms before slinging the sack over his shoulder.  “Lead on, little mother – let’s put this stuff away before it loses its freshness.”

He followed her into her ground floor apartment and helped her to separate the provisions that she’d bought for him and his comrades from those that were for her own use.  “Would you like a coffee as a reward for helping a poor, frail old lady?” she asked, as she started to put things away.

“Yes, please,” he replied.  “But you can’t fool me – I’ve seen just how hard that ‘poor, frail old lady’ works keeping this block clean for us.”

She laughed.  “A lifetime of toil builds the muscles, but I
am
getting less flexible – and I’m truly grateful for all your help this morning.”

As he sat down and accepted a mug of strong coffee, one of Olga’s cats, a grizzled black-and-white tom that she called Vanya, landed heavily in his lap.  “Comrade Olga,” he said as he scratched the intruder behind his ear, “I’d be interested in buying some of your flickerals – or, if you are going to use them to make some of your delicious chowder, perhaps you could spare a pot of that?”

The old lady nodded her agreement.  “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement,” she said with a smile.

“For a pot of your chowder, whatever you wish to ask.” 

She laughed.  It was a good system: she would supplement her wages by dealing with the co-operatives – and occasionally cooking her tenants some food – while freeing them from the need to go out to the vans early in the morning.

A thought seemed to strike her and her face took on a troubled cast.  “Comrade Boris,” she said half hesitantly, “there’s something I feel I should tell you.”

“Yes, little mother?” he replied, expecting some routine matter.

“Major Drovsorsky’s assistant came to see me yesterday – and something about her manner chilled me.”

“More than normal?”  Boris chuckled.  “Captain Reynard is the original Ice Queen.”

The old lady didn’t smile.  He reached across and reassuringly patted her shaking hands, but she just shook her head.  “Comrade Boris,” she said, “there is never anything remotely funny about that woman, but this time she was so intense that it frightened me – it was as if she was a predator and I was her prey.”

He started to speak but she waved him to silence and, having taken a sip of coffee, she continued.

“The Captain was very interested in how you and the other Heroes were behaving.  She reminded me of the time that you and your friends spent in hospital last month.  She said that you had been suffering from paranoia brought on by a drugs imbalance and that she wanted to ensure that none of you were suffering any sort of relapse.  She actually seemed rather disappointed when I told her that you were all quite well.”

“Surely she’s just doing her job,” he interjected.  “Isn’t it just an indication of the Republic’s solicitous care for us?”

“Perhaps – but she insisted that I should report any odd behaviour directly to her, rather than to Major Drovsorsky, and there was something about the way that she said it that made my blood run cold.  What’s more, the Major had actually spoken to me about the same matter himself just last week.”  She paused.  “I thought I should tell you, that’s all.”

“Thank you for your concern, Comrade Olga.  I know you find Captain Reynard unsettling, but perhaps it’s just the weight of her responsibilities that make her so intense?”

“I don’t think so – the Major has greater responsibilities than she does, but
he
never seems threatening.  When he comes to see me, we just chat over coffee and he always pets any of my cats who are around, and sometimes he even brings them a tin of pluny – but when Captain Reynard visits, the cats all hide, and I feel like joining them.”  She paused and sipped her coffee.  “No, I never look forward to interviews with her, but there was something different about her this time – a focussed cruelty that I didn’t like – I didn’t like it at all.”

They finished their coffee in silence and, having thanked her for her hospitality, Boris lifted a protesting Vanya from his knees and dumped him on the sofa.  He paid Olga for his group’s share of the food, and carried it upstairs.

As was customary when Talia was not on early shift, Boris had been the first to rise, and had both coffee and tea brewed by the time she joined him.

“Good morning, Talia.”

“Morning, Boris.”  She yawned decorously, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

“How was your evening with Major Valentine?”

“As pleasant as always – he’s very good company.”

“Anything I should know?”

Her brow furrowed.  “Anoushka’s doing well, and should be back with us any day now…  Oh, and I’ve arranged for us to have the dacha at Plune over the weekend…”

“Good.  It will be nice to get away for a while.”

“But in return, the Major wants us to do some school visits the day before.”

“Of course – it’ll be better than another day of tedious maintenance.”

“He said that might change…”

“Oh?”

“That’s all he said.  I couldn’t get him to elucidate any further.  Now, I’m sure there was something else…  Oh, yes – there’s going to be a bit more security about because of the situation with Telphania.”

For some reason that made Boris uneasy, but he simply shrugged.  “Coffee?”

“Please.”  She took the steaming mug, sipped and gave a deep sigh.  “Oh, that’s better…  Standard shift today?”

“More of the usual, I reckon.  I hope this trouble blows over soon, or I’ll go mad from the tedium.  At least you have your studies to keep you interested.”

She looked at him sympathetically.  “Up to a point – but you’d be surprised how often I read something which should be new to me and find that somehow it’s already familiar.”  She gave a little puzzled frown.  “Anyway, if things come to a head, we’ll all be busy enough – me with casualties, and you and Ivan repairing battle damage.”

Pat upon his cue, Ivan arrived.  He looked as dishevelled as always, but at least he’d already shaved, and he didn’t have a hangover this morning.  “Battle damage?” he said quizzically as he poured himself a cup of tea.  “Have I missed something, Comrades?”

“No, Ivan.  Comrade Talia was simply talking about how busy we’d be if a war breaks out.”

Ivan frowned pensively.  “D’you think they’d send us to the front?”

Talia shook her head.  “We’re too valuable.  They might send us to a base camp or two to raise morale, but they won’t risk us getting killed.”

“You’re right,” Boris said.  “People seem to have taken us to their heart.  Now, Comrade Ivan, drink up – we’ve got a bus to catch.”

“But Comrade Talia hasn’t told me the sordid details of last night’s encounter with Major Valentine yet.”

Talia stuck out her tongue and retorted, “The only thing in here that’s sordid is your mind.”

Ivan laughed.

“Come on, you dirty old man.”  Boris took Ivan by the arm.  “I’ll give you the news on the way.”

“Not so much of the ‘old’ – I’m a good few years younger than you.”  He shook Boris off, but downed his drink, got to his feet and headed for the door.

Being on early shift had its compensations: it meant they shared the bus almost exclusively with their workmates each day, and with them, they had long since lost the status of celebrities.  The journey passed in companionable silence, but as they approached the ’port, it was obvious that something unusual was happening outside it: not only were there more mechanics around than normal, but there was also a heavy security presence.

“What’s going on?”  Boris asked a guard as he and Ivan were escorted into the machine shop.

“We had a special delivery of agricultural machinery from our allies in the Dainworlds Federation.”  A familiar voice came from behind them, and they turned; to their surprise, the speaker was Major Valentine.

“What brings you here, Comrade Major?” Ivan asked.

“Has Comrade Talia told you about the increase in security because of the threat from Telphania?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m simply here as part of that extra security.”  He turned and made his way back toward the gate.

Boris looked at Ivan, but he just shrugged his shoulders and said, “It makes sense, I guess – at least now we’ve got something useful to do.”  He turned and made his way to their workshop, and as Boris followed him, he realised that Ivan was right – this was more like it: transit damage to repair, the odd replacement part to fit or manufacture – real work.

It was about mid-morning that Boris got an inkling of something odd: he realised that the part that he was straightening was a firing pin from a 45mm cannon.  How he recognised it, he had no idea – he could only assume he’d come upon something like it in the past.  He had a sudden flash of memory: he was standing beside such a cannon, dressed in armour and carrying an advanced combat rifle.  He tried to hold on to the vision, but it shredded to tatters as his heart began to race. 
Better not to think on the past,
he decided.

As the day wore on, he found himself recognising more and more military components among those he was servicing.  He kept his suspicions to himself, however, until Ivan came over with a puzzled expression and said, “This panel I’m flattening out is too heavy for a tractor – it’s some kind of armour.  I wonder what’s going on.”

“I don’t know,” Boris replied, “but some of these parts are definitely not for agricultural equipment – unless they’re building cultivators with mounts for surface-to-air missiles nowadays.”

“Should we talk to Major Valentine?”

“Oh, he must know – and he must realise we’ll work out that these parts are military.  The foreman told me that he wants to address us all at the end of the shift.  Let’s wait and see what he has to say.”

Ivan nodded his agreement.

“Anyway, at least we’ll have something interesting to tell the others this evening.”

“Too right.”  Ivan returned to his task.

-------------------------------------------

It should have been Anoushka’s turn to cook that night, but since she was still indisposed, the duty fell to Boris.  Ivan wasn’t around – the usual situation when there were chores to be done – so Talia volunteered to help him prepare the vegetables.

“How was your day?” she asked as she peeled a potato.

“Different,” he replied, and she looked up at him, one eye-brow raised.  “We spent it doing transit repairs on some new agricultural machinery.”

“Really?”

“Yes – sent by our allies in the Dainworlds.”

“We could do with it – just look at this.”  She held up a scrawny excuse for a carrot.  “What sort of equipment?  Tractors?  Combine harvesters?”

Boris thought for a moment.  “That’s funny – do you know, I can’t remember precisely what it was – just general farming equipment, I suppose.”  He shrugged.  “Anyway, how was your day?”